


Bad Idea

by Inell



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Co-workers, Dirty Talk, FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, First Kiss, Frottage, Future Fic, M/M, Mutual Pining, Older Man/Younger Man, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 11:43:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6609454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Rafe both know having sex isn't a good idea, but they also know that sometimes bad ideas have a way of working out in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Idea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [42hrb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/42hrb/gifts).



> I've been wanting to write this ship for ages, and 42hrb encouraged me to write it for them so here it is!

“I thought this was supposed to be a simple recon mission!”

“Would you stop yelling?” Rafe glares at him, which just makes Stiles want to shout in response.

It’s a ridiculous conditioning that stems from a childhood spent poking his best friend’s asshole father until he got pissed off because Scott was far too nice to ever get any kind of payback against his prick of a dad. Stiles is now twenty-six and mature most of the time, but something about Rafe still has this habit of making Stiles want to provoke him. For decidedly different reasons now, God help him. He looks behind them, scanning the area for anything following them. There’s nothing. “Do you think we lost it?”

“Possibly.” Rafe drags his fingers through his damp disheveled hair, and Stiles is momentarily distracted by the way his wet dress shirt clings to his biceps as he moves. There’s a rip in the front of the shirt, several buttons missing, his suit coat a lost cause somewhere in the lake when he’d been dragged underwater.

When Stiles realizes he’s staring, he looks away, grateful that the woods they’re in are covered with a thick canopy of trees that makes it just shady enough that Rafe might not notice his face is covered in a splotchy blush. Why couldn’t he continuing hating Rafael McCall for all the misery and heartbreak he put Scott and his mom through? Why did his passionate hatred have to become passionate lust when they started working closely together in this special branch of the FBI? Scott has no idea that Stiles’ favorite jerk off fantasies involve his deadbeat dad kneeling on the ground having his face fucked or begging Stiles to make him come.

Hell, it’s a ridiculous cliché. Lusting for his best friend’s father? Falling for his mentor figure? Stiles is so disappointed in himself because the lusting wouldn’t be so bad, it’s understandable since Rafe is a total DILF regardless of his asshole past, but the _feelings_ part is just ridiculous. The thing is, Rafe is the one who recruited him out of college, bringing him on-board to help his team in the supernaturally aware division of the FBI. The fact that such a thing even exists still delights Stiles yet also scares him, which is the primary reason why he actually agreed to join. With his tech background, he’s already got monitoring viruses implemented into all of their programs so he can keep track of what the agency is really doing, and, if necessary, he can activate the viruses to destroy all of their data. So far, everything is above board, but he knows better than to trust shady parts of the federal government.

Working closely with someone for nearly four years, having to set aside past differences and develop a real trust because they have to protect each other, late nights and overnights and traveling and boring stakeouts with nothing to do but talk…it all combines together into these mixed up emotions he’s felt for the last year or so. Maybe longer but he only recognized it after Rafe got injured by a griffin seeking its mate last April. Unfortunately, Stiles is just the annoying wiseass with the smart mouth in Rafe’s eyes. It doesn’t matter how mature he is, what he’s seen or experienced, or how grown up he is now. To Rafe, he’s just Scotty’s best friend.

But, sometimes, Stiles thinks Rafe is looking at him in ways most dads wouldn’t look at their son’s friend. There are lingering looks at his mouth, trailing off while staring at his hands, frequent touches that aren’t necessary yet can always be played off as casual, a whole lot of close proximity compared to the rest of their team, and even some lighthearted flirting sometimes. Stiles thinks maybe Rafe is actually interested, probably would have made a move already if there wasn’t the history between them and the whole age difference and Scott being Stiles’ best friend and, yeah. A lot of obstacles that complicate things and make it difficult to fuck a few times to resolve the tension if it’s just sexual or to date and possibly have a relationship if they want to go that direction.

“What are you plotting, Stiles?” Rafe asks, his tone quiet yet authoritative. It’s his ‘I’m the team leader and ranking superior in this rag tag group of oddball misfits so listen to me’ tone. “Talk to me.”

“Nothing.” For once, Stiles is being honest. Rafe looks disbelieving, and Stiles rolls his eyes. “I was just thinking.”

“Seriously? We’re being chased by some hybrid version of a hydra, and you’re standing there daydreaming?” Rafe snorts and shakes his head. “Focus on the task at hand and stop getting distracted.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Stiles mutters, pulling off his wet coat. When Rafe got pulled under, Stiles had gone into the lake to help him get free, and he’d got completely drenched with nasty lake water for his efforts. “If I hadn’t been with you, you’d be drowned by now. A simple ‘thanks for saving my ass again, Stiles, you’re awesome and I don’t deserve to have you as a partner’ would be more appropriate than telling me to not get distracted.”

“I wouldn’t have drowned,” Rafe mutters, dark eyes watching Stiles in a way that has his dick twitching in awareness. “So we’re doing thank yous now? If so, I believe you owe me several. I saved your skinny ass in Pittsburgh, Tampa, and Des Moines, and that’s just been the last few months.” His lips curve into a smug smile when Stiles looks at him, but his eyes are narrowed, and there’s so much heat in his gaze that Stiles feels like his skin should be on fire.

“You’re such a jackass.” Stiles looks away, knowing better than to let himself believe Rafe is actually looking at him with desire. Wishful thinking is all it is. After a moment, he unbuttons his dress shirt, shrugging it off and wringing it out because it’s soaking wet and uncomfortable. “I think we’ve made it far enough away from the lake that we’re safe. I haven’t heard anything except you bitching since we stopped running.”

“I haven’t been bitching.” Rafe’s voice is lower than usual, making Stiles think about sex and orgasms. “You’ve been distracted and preoccupied instead of paying attention.”

He shivers when a light breeze blows through the trees, causing goosebumps to rise on his bare arms. His nipples are tingling against his damp undershirt, and he bites his lip when they brush against the rough cotton, always so sensitive. “You have, too,” he mutters, getting more of the lake water out of his shirt so that he can put it back on. He’s tempted to take off his pants, too, just to get some of the excess water out of them, but he’s not sure if he could do that without embarrassing himself with his physiological reaction to Rafe standing there watching him.

“Have not.” Rafe stops, probably realizing he sounds like a six year old arguing, and clears his throat, drawing Stiles’ attention back to him. “I think we’re probably safe, though. I should probably call this in to Jacob so the rest of the team can come out. We need to relocate the creature or possibly terminate since it doesn’t seem very docile and willing to cooperate.”

“No? Really? What gives you that idea?” Stiles asks with mocking innocence and wide eyes. “Was it the whole nearly drowning you part or the chasing us for miles beyond the safety of the lake where it should have been unable to leave because it wanted to kill us that bad? You’re so observant, Rafe. Can’t get anything past you.”

Instead of replying, Rafe actually growls low in his throat, a human growl not a werewolf one, and then Stiles has tree bark rubbing against his back through the thin undershirt he’s wearing. Rafe’s mouth is on his before Stiles can utter a word of protest, a punishing type of kiss that’s firm and aggressive. Stiles feels the tension snap, reaching up to grip Rafe’s wet hair so he can kiss him back. His lips tingle when they separate, and Rafe is breathing hard, staring at him intently before one of them moves, Stiles isn’t sure which, and then they’re kissing again.

There’s nothing gentle or sweet about their kissing. It’s definitely passionate, though. Not violent but dominating because neither one of them is willing to submit. It’s turning him on so much because he’s never been with someone who makes his skin feel like it’s on fire just from a kiss. This is so wrong. He knows it, distantly, but he doesn’t care. He’s never claimed to be moralistic, that’s always been Scott’s job, and he can be a selfish bastard sometimes, so he’s taking what he wants, what’s being offered to him by the man he’s fantasized about having angry hate sex with since he was seventeen, the man he’s fantasized about in a variety of different ways since he was twenty-two.

When Rafe starts to pull back again, Stiles bites at his lips, sucking the bottom one into his mouth and nibbling on it as he moves his thigh between Rafe’s leg. He wants to push this, wants to see how far Rafe will go before he lets his conscience or his ethics get the better of him. Rafe makes a low noise, groaning before he’s shoving Stiles back against the tree, grinding against his thigh and rubbing his own leg against Stiles’ dick. His hands are everywhere as they kiss, licking into each other’s mouths, his fingers gripping tightly as they continue grinding against firm thighs.

“Knew you wanted this,” Rafe murmurs as he breaks the kiss, staring at Stiles and smirking. “Gagging for it, aren’t you, brat? Do you jerk yourself off thinking about my cock in your tight ass?”

“You wish.” Stiles moves his hands down Rafe’s back, inside his pants, squeezing his ass cheeks hard enough that there will be finger sized bruises there. “You’ve wanted this since I was underage, since I was _illegal_ , and you can’t deny it. I know, now. Wanted to shut me up with your dick, didn’t you? Bet you’ve thought about riding me, wanted your own son’s best friend naked and fucking you so hard you can’t sit for days.”

“I’m not denying anything.” Rafe bites at his neck, sucking a mark that will be impossible to cover unless he resorts to wearing douchey scarves like some hipster or Isaac. Stiles whines, hips rolling forward, rubbing against Rafe’s thigh as he feels teeth scrape against his neck. His voice is sex and desperation as he says, “Look at you. Such a little cock whore. Bet you’d drop to your knees right here and beg for my come, wouldn’t you?”

“The only cock whore I see is you,” Stiles tells him, slightly breathless as he moves his hands underneath Rafe’s shirt, scratching his back with his blunt nails, trying to make lasting marks. Just because he’s infatuated with this infuriating man doesn’t mean he wants gentle loving sex. He’s always know it would be wild and rough if they ever acted on the sexual tension, and he’s not wrong. If anything, he underestimated how explosive it would be. “Look at you riding my leg like some teenager with his first hard on. You’ll be the one on your knees sucking my dick and calling me Daddy as you ask me to let you drink my come.”

“Fuck,” Rafe hisses, his large hands moving to Stiles’ waist, holding him firm as he rolls his hips, trying to get the pressure he needs against his hard dick.

“Maybe later, if you’re a good boy for me,” Stiles murmurs, laughing when Rafe pulls back to look at him. Rafe just snorts before they’re kissing again, not quite so rough, still just as heated and passionate. The tree bark is scraping against his bare skin, his thin undershirt bunched up from where Rafe’s shoved it so he can touch. Between the slight achy pain from the tree and the intensity of their kissing and the pressure from Rafe’s thigh and the fact they’re actually doing this after so many years of tension, it’s just overwhelming.

Still, Rafe is the one who comes first. He rocks against Stiles’, moving more erratically, and then he’s shuddering as he comes in his pants. Stiles keeps kissing as he begins to move more intently, knowing exactly what he needs to get off, coming soon after, spilling into his underwear like a horny teenager making out for the first time. It would be embarrassing if Rafe weren’t twenty-one years older and hadn’t just done the exact same thing.

They keep kissing and lazily grinding into each other for a while. When Rafe takes a step back and stares at him, Stiles runs his fingers through his hair and licks his lips. “So, that just happened.”

“It probably shouldn’t have,” Rafe admits, smiling wryly as he keeps staring at Stiles’ face. “We got carried away. Adrenalin from the chase.”

“Excuses.” Stiles picks up the shirt he’d dropped when Rafe started kissing him and pulls it on, making a face as it brushes against his sore back. “You wanted it, I wanted it, and we’re both adults. We don’t need excuses, Rafael.”

“It’s going to complicate things, Stiles.” Rafe reaches over and slaps his hands away, taking over buttoning Stiles’ shirt himself. “I’ve resisted all this damn time. I don’t know how you managed to get under my skin tonight enough to make me lose control.”

“Stop playing like you give a shit about morals or rules. I know you better than that,” Stiles reminds him, looking into his eyes. “Are you going to insist it’s a one-time thing or are you going to accept the fact that we have undeniable chemistry and work pretty well together?”

“I’m your best friend’s father, and I’m a hell of a lot closer to fifty than you are to thirty,” Rafe tells him. “Not to mention the fact that we work closely together on our team. What part of all that makes you think us trying to have a relationship would be a good idea?”

“I never said it would be a good idea.” Stiles grins. “But bad ideas have a way of working themselves out pretty well sometimes. Anyway, what harm is there in trying? I can keep sex separate from work, so whatever happens in our private lives won’t affect my professionalism. I’m brave enough to take the chance. What about you?”

“I think there’s a big difference in having dirty wrong fantasies about some mouthy teenager compared to having respect and dirty fantasies about a friend and colleague. When the colleague is the same smartass teenager all grown up, however, I don’t know.” Rafe looks at his mouth before looking back into his eyes. “You’re right, though. I see morals as loose guidelines, not restrictive boundaries. So why not go for it? We’re both adults, and I certainly don’t care about the age difference if you’d don’t. We can give it a try and see how it goes, I suppose.”

“We can discuss it more later then,” Stiles decides, leaning in to kiss Rafe, licking into his mouth and gripping his hair tightly as the heat flares again. When he pulls back, he smiles. “We should get back to the car so we can change into dry clothes that aren’t sticky with come and get the team called in so we ca deal with this hydra hybrid. After that, we can grab dinner tonight, if you’re free, maybe try this again in a bed instead of against a tree.”

“You’re a bossy little brat, aren’t you?” Rafe huffs a laugh. “I’m free tonight, but let’s hold off on dinner thoughts until we see how long it takes to deal with that creature. We might have to go out tomorrow night instead.”

“Tonight or tomorrow. It doesn’t really matter.” Stiles starts walking back towards the parking lot where they left their car. “It’s a date regardless.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Follow me on Tumblr](http://inell.tumblr.com)


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